


A Promise is a Promise

by mother_finch



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:47:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: Married Shoot Prompt: They've been married for awhile, but have been fighting a lot lately. They have one big fight and Shaw's at her wits end and is about to walk out when Root says really brokenly in tears "You made a promise..a vow..". Something super angsty, but with a happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Promise is a Promise

Looking out the filthy window, Root watches blurs of people walk by in runny waves, and cars swirl in the window’s film. With a sigh, Root looks forward once more, blonde hair fanning out around her shoulders. Subconsciously, her right hand trails over her left, and her fingers twist the golden wedding band on her ring finger. As the taxi drives closer to her destination, her heart drums faster in her chest. Her chocolate eyes meet the driver’s green ones. With his right hand, he wraps his knuckles against the Plexiglas window, signaling for her to slide it open. Leaning forward, she complies, wondering what he needs from her.

"You nervous ‘bout somethin’?" He asks with a thick New York accent. Root’s eyes grow curious, but she wears a kind smile.

"Just a little anxious," she replies. "Why?"

He shoots her a smile through the rear view window. “You’ve been ringing your hands dry since you got in my cab. Y’also been quiet.”

Root tries to conceal a smile, but can’t. “Been thinking.”

"Mind if I ask what?"

For a moment, she tries to fight her thoughts, but her bottled up emotions get the better of her. Taking a deep breath, her smile deepens, and her eyes meander from side to side, not looking at him as she begins. “I’ve been away from home for a while,” she looks to her hands- her ring- “and, I uh, I miss my wife.” His eyes widen in a delighted smile, giving her more confidence to continue. “The last time we talked there was a fight, but…” Root looks up into the rear view mirror as they reach a stop light, and watches his eyes. “…But I’m excited- to see her again, I mean.” He nods. “Hope she’s not mad either, especially since I haven’t been in touch with her since.”

* * *

 

Root recalls the last fight- no, the last string of fights- that had unfolded in the past few weeks. Things had worked out for a while- it was wonderful; it was bliss- but the job had been pressing in recently. Fights were subtle at first, a quip here, banter gone too far there, but slowly, the snowballs tumbled into snow rollers, wiping out their sanity like small villages. The smallest things seemed fuel enough to ignite the largest fires. A broken glass could turn into a screaming match over who got in the way at work, or how insufferable the other could be. The last started after a long day with an unsuccessful number. Both upset- Root showing it, Shaw not- walked into their apartment with bitter emotions looming over them. One comment from Root about her being up tight, and it was all over. The house became a battleground as words were spit, and things they didn’t truly mean stung like wasps.

 _Then_ , Root thinks ruefully,  _I left. She said it was important, so I wrote a note and I left._

"Why not?" The cab driver asks, throwing Root for a loop.

"Huh?"

"Why didn’t you talk to her? A call or somethin’?"

 _Oh._ "Work didn’t allow. It was an impromptu call-out, and in the line of work we do, talking can be…  _complicated._ " He nods his head, then pulls over on a dark side street.

"Well, Mrs. uh.."

"Call me Jill."

"Well-  _Jill_ \- I hope everything works out. You seem like a fine lady; who ever she is, she’s lucky.”

Root smiles a wide, toothy grin, and thanks the man for the ride. She watches him speed off, then heads up the entrance stairs and into the lobby. Taking an elevator up, she grabs the top of her light wig and pulls it from her head, shaking out her wavy hair. The elevator dings, and Root steps out, fluffing her hair with an excited smile. Her heart is a hummingbird fluttering in her chest, beating against her rib cage, and her stomach is overpowered by a million butterflies. With nimble fingers, she grabs the key from her side pocket and unlocks the door.

She slips in, taking in the welcoming fragrances of home. Flicking on a light, she realizes she is utterly alone. Root checks her watch as she walks forward, tossing her wig and jacket over the edge of the couch, then heads to the kitchen. Turning on the radio silently, she rummages through the cabinets, humming to herself. From behind her, a door clicks open. Footsteps. Then silence. In a low whisper, a voice calls out.

"Root?"

"Hi, Sweetie," Root replies to the familiar voice, taking a drink from her cup of water. She jumps, water sloshing from the cup, as a loud slamming ricochets through the apartment.

________\ If Your Number’s Up /________

"What the  _Hell_ were you thinking?!” The words are like China plates smashing over Root’s head, and the sound of shattering porcelain floods her ears. Turning around, she slams her hand against the granite counter top of her apartment. No,  _their_ apartment.

"I was  _thinking_ there was a number to _save!_ " She shouts back angrily, eyes icy and serious. Something hits the ground- shoes- and less than a moment later, Sameen Shaw’s livid face emerges through the doorway. Her eyes are scorching flames as she stares Root down.

"And you didn’t think to tell  _me_  you’d be gone for- oh, I don’t know-  _eight_ days?!” Shaw spits, the venom dripping from her every word. Root bristles angrily.

"It was  _nine_ ,” she retorts.

"Wish it would’ve been  _ten._ ”

Root takes a sharp breath in, the bladed edge of the statement driving deep into Root’s heart. “I did tell you, but since when have you  _listened?!_ ”

"I listen to  _every_  damn word you say, Root,” Shaw fumes back with rage, throwing her hands up. “But maybe I’ll understand things better when you start showing me the big picture of your plans, not just a dog-eared _corner._ ”

"I  _told_  you I had a number!”

"And so I should  _assume_  that every number we get is a  _week long_ endeavor?!” Root crosses her arms at Shaw’s words, and a dark cast comes over Shaw’s face. Her voice quiets to a deadly level. “Oh,  _wait_ , that’s right, the  _Machine_  tells you numbers. The  _Machine_  gives you  _every_ right in the world to leave without so much as a means of communication. It’s all justified!”

"Don’t bring Her into this!" Root roars, stepping closer to Shaw with dejected and raged-filled eyes.

"Why not?  _Huh?_ " Shaw throws her hands up again; Root’s never seen her so animated with emotions. "Are you telling me  _She_  isn’t the one who sent  _you_  out there?”

Root is silent, seething. In a quieter voice, she replies, “She did.” Shaw nods, rolling her tongue over her teeth angrily, looking away. She crosses her arms.

"Good to know how much She means to you."

"What the Hell is that supposed to mean?" Root retorts, eyes glistening with enraged tears threatening to well over.  _This is not how I wanted to come home._

"Oh  _face_  it, Root!” Shaw spits, eyes daggers as they come back to meet hers. “She doesn’t talk to you personally in  _how_  long? And the second she does you’re right back on the band wagon. Can’t so much as  _speak_  a word to me- just leave a piece of  _paper_. All for Her?  _Really_.” Shaw’s sentences are butchered, not sure how to get out the gravity of her words.

"Didn’t think you’d have  _minded_ ,” Root says with venom in her words. “All you’ve done for weeks is  _scream_  at me.” She screams the last words, and Shaw gives her an appalled look.

” _Me_?” She yells, stepping even closer to Root. “Okay. How about I give you that- ignore the fact you scream  _right back_ \- but tell me how this isn’t your fault too?” Before Root can get a word out, Shaw continues, her veins bulging from the strain in her voice. The radio is inaudible over their voices. “I get that She’s so  _special_  to you,” the spite drips from her every word. “But-  _please_ \- explain to me how She can be so important that you could pick up on the dime for her but not even  _speak_  to  _me_.”

"Oh  _c’mon_ , Shaw,” Root fumes, an imperious laugh biting at her words. “Don’t pretend like you care.” The second the words leave her mouth, she regrets them. She brings a hand to her mouth, wishing she could swallow the sounds back down, take back the statement. Shaw bristles and turns her back to Root, walking back through the door frame.

"Is that what you think?" Her voice is almost a whisper, barely caring to Root’s ears. It’s filled to the brim with bitterness and scorn. Turning her head to the side, she says louder, "Good to know." Root is taken aback by the amount of hurt in those very words.

"Sameen, I-"

"You  _know_ what?” Shaw interrupts as she turns to face Root, putting her hands out to the sides, a scary air of relaxed hysteria in her posture. “Maybe she sent you out to take a break.”

"Sa-"

"But I don’t think it was long enough." She backs up down the hall, still looking at Root, who follows her around the corner, a tear rolling down her cheek. Root stops just outside the kitchen doorway, watching Shaw slowly continue to back up. "For those nine days you were gone I couldn’t  _wait_ for you to get back, but…” She trails off, shaking her head. Turning, she closes the space between herself and the door. Hand touching the knob, she stops, letting out a slow breath.

"Sam,  _please_.” Root’s voice is an uneven plead, her feet glued in place as she watches Shaw, eyes begging her not to go. Shaw doesn’t look back. She turns the doorknob further, and the latch clicks open. “Shaw.” Root’s face is tied up tight with an unimaginable pain, tears streaking down her cheeks, breath ragged. “You made a _promise_ … a vow.”

"So did you," Shaw shoots back icily, still not turning around. "But- right now?- I’m leaving."

Root’s heart breaks. She feels it shatter into pieces, fall between her ribs- the sharp edges ripping open her flesh. She tries to breathe. Can’t. Her mouth is open, trying to suck in air, but nothing seems to happen. Swallowing hard, she get’s out one small sound. Two small words. “How long?”

Silence.

"An hour. A day. A month. A year.  _Who_ knows.” More silence. “But at least I’m  _telling_  you- telling you with  _words_ , Root- because I _do_  care. I care.” With that, she rips the door open, then slams it behind her. The walls rattle, the door’s latch beats against the wall. And Root stands; stands in that same exact spot. She’s frozen, with no air in her lungs, no sound in her mouth, no life in her veins.

_________________\ We’ll Find You /______________

Shaw slams the door shut with the entire weight of her body, pressing herself to the opposite side, closing her eyes against the florescent lights drowning the hallway. Silently, she listens. Hears nothing. With hot rage and grief, she pushes herself from the white painted door and stuffs her hands in her pockets. Taking the stairs, she feels the plush carpet on her feet. Looking down, she frowns. _I took my shoes off inside._ Swearing aloud, she descends the rest of the stairs, then pushes through the front door in her black socks.

She walks, walks to the parked car registered to her identity, then lets out another round of swears. No keys.  _But where would I go anyway?_  She thinks, exasperation getting the best of her now. She leans against the side of her small Honda and looks through their apartment window, watching Root’s immobile shadow through the curtain-covered window.  _Where would I go?_  Honestly, she had no clue. The only place she really wanted to be was there. Three floors up and next to Root.

 _Didn’t mean to come off so angrily_ , she thinks with bitter remorse, sliding to a sitting position on the hood of her car. From the first second of opening the door, she could feel something different. She wasn’t alone. And then, there was the smell. Faint, barely traceable, but it was an alien scent. It didn’t seem like Root, it was a mixture of tobacco and bars and men. She’d seen the wig- put two and two together.  _I’m not dumb,_  she thinks with a chuckle, _but God am I stupid_. Not seeing Root in days, that smell, and the overwhelming weight of worry that had dragged her down all that time finally snapped something within her. She was at her wit’s end. _And look where that’s gotten me_ , she thinks heatedly. Her eyes follow Root’s shadow as it glides swiftly into the kitchen. She sees the outline of Root picking up a phone; putting it to her ear. Sameen rummages through her pockets- empty.

A gust of cold wind blasts Shaw, and her hair whips around her head- she feels something off on her face. Something moving on a diagonal down her cheeks in the wind, warm one second, then twice as cold right after. Bringing her hand up, she feels water.

"Well I’ll be  _damned_ ,” she fumes aloud, viciously swiping at her face. Crossing her arms, long sleeve shirt giving little protection from the elements of the night, she watches Root pace back and forth in the kitchen, speaking animatedly into the phone. She stops; places it down. She walks out of the window’s frame, and a moment later, the lights flick off. Shaw wants to go back up there- to check if Root’s alright- yet something stops her.

 _I’d been worried sick all week,_  Shaw’s mind drifts into the dark.  _Threatened Harold, begged John, slept on the couch at night, keeping my eyes directed at the door._  ‘Don’t pretend like you care.’ The words echo in Shaw’s brain, consuming her every thought.  _Wasn’t that what marriage was?_  Shaw thinks miserably, looking at the wedding band on her left index finger.  _Didn’t that show how much you care?_ She didn’t know- she didn’t know much of anything anymore. Hearing the apartment building’s glass door click open, she forces her eyes from her ring to look in that direction.

Her eyes freeze as Root stops- visibly stunned to see Shaw there. Her hands go limp at her sides, and Shaw sees the keys dangling from loose fingers. With a sigh, Shaw pushes herself from the car’s hood, and cautiously walks forward, eyes trained on Root.

 _She’s crying,_ Shaw thinks, close enough to see the red rimmed nose, bloodshot, puffy eyes, and the sparkle of tear streaks in the street lamp’s faint glow. _Please, please don’t cry._

"Come on, Root, stop that," Shaw’s voice is insistent but gentle and somber as she comes to a stop just before Root. Root’s nose gives an anguished twitch, but she doesn’t move. Shaw brings her hand forward, sliding the keys from Root’s hand easily. "What, uh, are these for?" Shaw asks, jingling them in her palm. Root swallows hard.

"Gonna go and.. look for you." Her lips press together tight, trying to keep back another wave.

"You found me," Shaw’s voice is quiet, and she brings a smile to her own lips. It breaks Root, and the wave she tried to contain crashes over, and another pairing of tears slide down her porcelain face. Shaw drops her shoulders. "Oh,  _Root.._ " Shaw steps forward, enveloping her arms around Root’s waist. Instantly, her trance is broken, and she throws her arms around Shaw’s neck, burying her face into the crook of Shaw’s neck. Shaw closes her eyes, admitting only to herself how relieving it is. "Don’t cry, alright?" she whispers, and Root sucks in a shaky breath.

"It’s not that easy," her voice in a hushed tremble, muffled in Shaw’s hair. "Not all of us are made of steel."

"I’m not either," Shaw replies, not wanting to share her own experience on the car hood, but wanting Root to know she’s in pain too. Root squeezes her tighter.

"I’m sorry," she mumbles into Shaw’s neck.

"Me, too." Shaw stands a moment, the only sound she hears is the sniffling from Root in her ear; the only thing she feels in the quake of Root’s back against her hands. Finally, she pulls Root back to look at her. She brings her hands to Root’s face, using her thumbs to push the pesky tears away. Not removing her hands, she says, "I care, Root."

"I know."

"You’re a real pain in my ass, you know." Shaw says amiably, winning a small smile from Root. Shaw eases Root’s face towards her, kissing her softly. She keeps Root’s face there, pulling back only a hair to whisper. "But I still love you." Shaw’s lips brush Root’s with the words, and she can feel Root’s pulse quicken under her fingers. She kisses her again, the salty taste of tears reaching her mouth, then withdraws, releasing Root’s face. "We’re gonna figure something out, okay?"

Root nods.

"Tomorrow," Shaw promises, the two walking back to the building’s entrance. "Tonight, we’re just going to be happy that you’re back." She feels fingers entangle themselves in her own, the cold metal of Root’s ring scrape against her skin, and allows herself a small, pleasant smile.


End file.
